They're Just Kids
by tearsandeyeliner
Summary: Sylar's the company's newest agent and is given the assignment to nab three young level 5 escapees before they cause more destruction than they have already. AU for the inclusion of OC's. Please read and review!
1. Push It

They're Just Kids

Chap. 1- Push It

_a/n: I own nothing besides my OC's. Chapter title sponsored by Garbage off of their album "Version 2.0"_

_

* * *

_Bennett took the elevator down to Level 5 like nothing had changed, but he knew from the knot in his gut that the opposite was true. He took a deep breath as the doors opened and swallowed his horror as he took in the sight of blood on the walls, live wires letting off sparks every now and then, and Angela.

"You got here pretty quick," she said calmly as she turned to face him.

He started to walk past her, his eyes running over every inch of the space. "I knew I would need to take care of this," he responded, looking at each empty cell. Jesse, Knox, The German, and Flint were all missing.

"They're not the only ones who managed to escape in the blackout." Bennett gave her a look and she continued, "Twelve of them got away in total, including a few that you didn't originally catch."

The two walked further down the hallway to stop in front of three cells. The first held a containment chamber with most of the glass broken and gas tanks to remove the air had been taken away. The second held a chair with many straps all ripped or opened and what looked to be something similar to a ball gag on the floor. The last cell held a similar containment chamber but stood vertically as opposed to the first; broken glass, water, ripped plastic tubes and broken equipment lay strewn on the floor.

"Who's were these?" he asked, looking back to Angela.

"Thompson's, but now they're gonna be your responsibility," she said as she handed him three red files.

Bennett opened each one quickly just looking for the basics._ Names: Damon Pavlis, Canaría Rosales, and Abigail Fresca-Wrightenbalk. AKA's: Zeus, Cana, and Abby-normal. Hometowns: Volos, Greece; Los Angeles, CA; Springfield, IL. Ages: 21, 20, 19. Abilities:-_

"We need you out there as soon as possible," Angela interrupted his reading.

"They're just kids, all around Claire's age," he replied.

"Yes, and they're just as powerful as she is, if not more, that's why they're our top priority right now. They still have plenty of room to grow."

Bennett tucked the files under arm. "Just so we're clear, I'm not re-enlisting, I'm just here to take care of this and then I'm going back home."

"Yes, back to our Claire. That's fine. Unfortunately, I'm assigning you a new partner."

"What happened to the Haitian?"

"He's doing a pick up for me," she replied as she stopped in front of another cell. A tall man stood in front of a blood spattered sink, toweling off his hands. He turned to see his mother and the man who had tried killing him numerous times and smiled. She opened the door and motioned her finger, beckoning him to follow her.

They all walked into her office and as soon as the door closed Bennett yelled, "You expect me to work with this monster!"

Sylar looked at him, caught a bit off guard. Angela smiled, touching his hand gently. "He's perfect for you, Noah."

"He's a murderer," he replied reaching for his gun.

"Then that means you have more in common than you'd like to admit." She said touching Bennett's arm, which dropped to his side. "Regardless, I want to put Gabriel in play here. He just needs a little structure, and I know you can give that to him."

Sylar felt his ear twitch a bit at the name Gabriel. _Am I still Gabriel, even after all of this?_

Angela turned on the T.V. to see the news broadcasting footage from a security camera. "Reports indicate that four men, equipped with what looks to be a flame-thrower, have taken hostages and are currently robbing the First Federal Bank in Poughkeepsie."

"Flint," Bennett muttered through gritted teeth as he looked at the screen.

"Looks like there's a change of plans for now," she announced as Bennett left the office to prepare. Sylar looked at her questioningly, and she smiled. "You should be fine. I'll send someone to get you a suit," she said she picked up the phone.

* * *

It had been a rude awakening for all of them as they heard the sirens, the yelling, and the sound of glass breaking. Without opening her eyes, Abby had known that something big had happened. This was the chance for escape, but to go back to what? Her parents believed she was dead, fake closed-casket funeral and all. She hesitated before she took a deep breath through the tube they had shoved up her nose and down into her lungs; she could heard the glass cracking and the whoosh and splash of gallons of water as it all rushed to the floor. She didn't immediately fall out of the containment tank, tip-toeing around all of the broken glass and removing her air tube without touching it. She went to the open door and took a look around. Inmates were running in every direction, looking for the exit. She looked at some of the other cells, most were empty, but the two next to her still held prisoners. One lay unconscious in a containment chamber, hooked up to machines, just like hers, the other was unconsciously strapped to a chair, with tubes coming out of their arm and stomach. She pressed her hands against the glass of both cells. _Wake up! _ She sent the thought to the both of them, and they stirred.

The prisoner in the containment chamber breathed deeply through the tube in his nose before punching the glass. It shattered, and he climbed out, running to the open door and looked at Abby. "Thank you," he said, his voice lilting with a heavy European accent.

She looked back at him for a moment before she turned her attention back to the other prisoner. She sent her wake up thought again, but the prisoner barely stirred. The man she had just rescued charged into the other cell, seeing the other prisoner, began to undo all of the straps. The straps soon started to undo themselves, and he stepped away. He looked back the girl on the other side of glass, who smiled nervously. The prisoner was a girl with greasy, blonde curls falling into her face. He pulled the tubes off of her and picked her up in his arms once the last strap was removed.

Together the three made for the exit and watched as the remaining prisoners scattered, killing all of the guards and taking whatever vehicles they could find. One last car was left, and the three ran for it, Abby unlocking and opening the doors without touching them. The man placed the unconscious girl in the backseat, strapping her in before jumping into the driver's seat and ripping off the plastic cover underneath the steering wheel. He began to hot wire the car, and Abby looked on in astonishment.

"I'm guessing you've done this before?" she finally piped up.

He looked at her and smiled again, "My father's boat would break down all da time back home. I always had to do dis to get it going," he explained as the engine turned on. He put the car into gear, and sped off towards the highway.

As the car made the first turn, the girl in the back seat slid hard against the door. She quickly woke up grabbing her head. She hissed in pain and then sat straight up, looking to gain her bearings. Upon seeing the two people in the front seat she promptly exclaimed, "Who the fuck are you?"

* * *

Sylar adjusted his tie one more time before his mother walked back into her office.

"Oh good, it fits," she said glancing at her son. He turned to her before Bennett walked in to fetch him.

"Let's go," Bennett said, as Sylar wordlessly followed him.

Their car ride was quiet; Bennett gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to blow out the brains of his passenger. Sylar looked at him with cautiousness. _If he tries anything, I'm ready_, he thought, resisting to the urge to smile, even to himself.

As the two men approached the scene, cops swarmed everywhere; one of them stopped them briefly only to be fooled by a fake badge Bennett flashed at them before they were let through the barricade.

"I'm gonna head in there and get things taken care of," Bennett said as they got closer to the building.

"Well what am I supposed to do?"

"Stay here and stay out of trouble."

"That's a little one-sided to be a partnership-"

"You're not my partner!"

Sylar paused before he barked out in a New York accent, "Who's in charge here?"

An officer walked over, authority firmly in place, and replied, "I'm Lt. Corey. Who're you?"

"I'm special agent Andrew Hanson with the FBI. Ya mind telling me why these barricades aren't back 30 ft. Ya want the media up our ass or are ya tryin' to let one of these looky-loo civilians get killed?"

The officer looked down at his feet before yelling to the other officers, "You heard the man! Back these horses up!" He walked away.

"And bring us some coffee- decaf!" Sylar yelled before turning back to Bennett. "You drink decaf right, Noah?"

Bennett could only roll his eyes at what had happened. He walked over to one of the trucks and grabbed a bullet-proof vest before Sylar followed him. Bennett handed him his gun and strapped himself into the vest.

"So you goin' in? And without your gun?"

"Yep. You're waiting out here."

"They're not gonna let you out alive, even if you do what they say."

"Oh how touching. The monster cares about my well-being."

"Do you think you have to prove that you're better than me by getting yourself killed-"

"I am better than you."

"Let me help."

"Fine. Debrief the hostages, but under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near that buffet in there, got it?"

Sylar pouted slightly, "Yeah." He watched as Bennett walked into the bank.

* * *

As the car drove down the highway, the three occupants stayed silent, until the blonde opened her mouth again, "You didn't answer my question."

Abby finally turned around to get a good look at the girl. Her messy blonde curls hung down past her shoulders in a knotted heap, she had golden tanned skin, but brown eyes looked at her like she was about to slap somebody.

"I'm Abby," she simply said. The blonde looked Abby over, noticing how flat, straight and mousy the girl's light brown hair was. She had brown eyes and incredibly pale skin with odd scars on her hands and forearms.

_Like a fucking ghost_, the blonde thought to herself.

"I am not!"

"I didn't say anything!" the blonde yelled back.

"Oh yeah? I'm not a ghost!" Abby screeched back.

The blonde's eyes went wide with shock. _This bitch can read my mind. Oh my God!_

"Besides, who the hell are you?"

The girl hesitated a moment before answering, "I'm Cana…Rosales." The blonde looked over at the driver, irritated that he had not said a word during the girl's tiff. "And who are you?" she asked, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, "I'm Damon," he said, his thick accent rolling off of his tongue.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here," Cana replied, settling herself into the backseat and draping her arms along the top of the backseat.

"No, actually from Greece….Volos." Cana exaggerated a face showing she understood.

Abby looked over at Damon, a small smile on her face. "I'm from Springfield-"

"Oh like the Simpsons?" Cana interjected.

Abby glared at her a moment before replying, "No, I'm from Illinois."

Cana saw that both Abby and Damon were looking at her before she replied, "I'm an L.A. girl myself." She looked down at her nails which she deemed were in dire need of a manicure. "How long have we been on the road for?"

"About an hour," Abby sighed as she settled back into her seat.

"Where the hell are we even going?" With that, Damon pulled over on the side of the highway. He put the car in park before he turned to face both of the girls. "So, I'm guessing you have no idea?"

"I'm not going back home," Abby said looking at her hands that lay in her lap.

"Why not? I'm sure Damon could drop you off right in front of your house. Couldn't you, Damon?" Cana suggested, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Damon smiled, but Abby shook her head," You don't get it." Cana stared back at her not knowing what to say. "My parents think I'm dead."

"Well, how the hell did that happen?" Cana immediately blurted out.

"The company."

Each looked away from each other pondering the weight of the realization.

"They made you parents believe you died?" Damon asked his accent and his sympathy mucking up what he tried to say.

Abby nodded, her face retreating behind her hair as she stared at her lap. Outside of the car, the sky had started to cloud over in a depressing gray, when only a few minutes before the sky had been a bright blue. Damon placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to smile at her.

"That's so messed up," Cana said snapping everyone back into reality.

"Wouldn't you wan try to see them, tell them you alive?" Damon tried.

Abby bit her lip, fighting back tears. She let out a shaky sigh, "I've done something bad, if they knew the truth my parents wouldn't forgive me anyway."

"What? You were a cutter?" Cana asked pointing directly at Abby's hands. Abby shoved her hands in the pockets of the standard gray pajamas given to all company inmates and stared daggers at Cana. "What? Believe me you're not the only one that cut. A lot of my friends used to-"

"I never cut!" she screamed staring at an odd spot on the front seat, eyes wide. "I was born with autism." Cana looked at her completely confused. "When I was younger I used to bite my hands and my arms without thinking. I never really did think much back then, not about what I said or what I really did, just as long as everything stayed the same. My parents did everything they could for me, sending me to a school for those like myself, and it was fine.

"The whole thing started about a year ago," she said as she started rocking her body back and forth. "It was the spring, and I remember I was with my class and we were taking a field trip to a park for a softball game. I couldn't pay attention to what was going on and I slipped away from the class in the stands, and none of the teachers or monitors had noticed. I kept walking around trying to find something to do…" She stopped as she started hyperventilating and Damon rolled down all of the windows before putting the car back in drive, hoping the moving air would calm her down. She continued, "I guess I had wandered by the fence near the foul line and all I remember there was this ball coming straight at me at full force. I tried to run away, but it was too fast and it hit me right here," she said pressing her finger to her left temple.

"That shoulda killed you," Cana replied deadpan.

"All I know is that once it happened all I saw were sparks in front of my eyes, before I blacked out for a while, but then the sparks came back. I remember how I couldn't open my eyes, but it was like I knew what was going on around me. I remember the doctors trying to keep me alive, cleaning the blood off of me, trying to get the swelling in my brain to slow down," she said as she wrung her hands repeatedly. "I was eventually put in a room by myself, and my parents saw me every day. I could tell how badly they wanted me to wake up, and I wanted to wake up to show them I was fine, but the only way I even knew they were there was because of the sparks. There had to be a way for me to show them and I tried, I really tried, but nothing seemed to work.

"And then there was this nurse who called herself Danielle. I remember hearing her name every day," she as she waved her hand by her ear. "She used to hurt me, she would stick needles in my arm with things that made me feel like I was falling farther away from everything, my parents. I didn't know where it came from but I felt so much pain inside of me, and there was nothing I thought I could do about it. But I fought," she said as tears started to roll down her cheeks only to be blown off of her face by the wind blowing through the car. The sky had darkened and a light rain had started to fall. "I fought to try and stop the pain, try and show my parents I was still there so I could somehow tell them what that nurse, Danielle, was doing to me.

"Then one day, my parents showed up and I fought with everything I had and I managed to push this pen that one of the doctors left behind on the table onto the floor. I don't know if my parents got it, but it was a start. Then every day I pushed myself to move more things to show I was still there. I pushed papers around, and once when they were actually leaning over to kiss my head I knocked over a plastic pitcher filled with water onto the floor. I realized if I could do that, maybe I could stop Danielle.

Cana's hands flew to her mouth, and Damon looked at her wildly.

"It was late one night when she came to hurt me again. She gave me this evil smile that I had never seen before she waved the needle in my face. I couldn't move, much less open my eyes, but I knew what she was doing. When she went to stick the needle in my arm, I forced it out of her hands. She thought she had dropped it and bent down to pick it up, but I had had enough. I pushed her with everything I had against the wall, and then I pushed the needle off of the floor and into her neck, then I couldn't stop myself. Every remotely sharp object in the room I sent at her. She deserved to feel the pain that I had but couldn't tell anyone about. After that I blacked out again." She wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Cana looked at her completely dumbfounded. "How did you know all of this was happening if you were unconscious? You couldn't even move!"

"I didn't get it either. When the sparks started again there was this man who was wheeling me out of the hospital and into an ambulance. He was talking to me, I knew it, but I couldn't say anything. He said, 'Abby, Abby, Abby-normal. I never thought you would turn out like this.' After that he kind of forgot I was there but I could hear him talking to another man, saying how they had made up this story about a new nurse who had messed with the valves over the bed and left a cup of water on the edge of the night table in the room and how the whole thing had supposedly caused a small fire that had killed me. The other man had asked if my parents had believed me, and he laughed. He said my parents were a wreck. He said that he had told them that the only thing they could do was to offer to pay for a closed casket funeral. And to make sure that the deal was sealed they charred the hospital room."

Damon had begun hyperventilating himself, gripping the steering wheel not knowing what emotion would take over him. By then a hard, steady rain was falling, and they were forced to roll up the windows. Cana pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on top. Abby sniffled as she tried to calm herself down. "I didn't wake up like that again until we all escaped."

"Did you ever hear da man name?" Damon asked trying not to look at the sobbing girl, for fear he would accidentally drive them off of the road.

"His name was Thompson," Abby croaked out.

Cana's eyes grew wide, and she gritted her teeth but said nothing.

* * *

Noah drove in absolute silence, mentally kicking himself for what had happened in the bank. Sylar didn't listen to him, of course, and walked into the bank after things had gone wrong. He was being held hostage, and_ that monster saved the day._ _ But he couldn't stop himself could he?_ Bennett thought as he glanced over at Sylar, who stared out through the windshield, barely blinking. Sylar couldn't stop himself and had killed Jesse, opening his head up like a can of vegetables to poke around in his brain. Bennett gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

They pulled up to the headquarters of the Company, and Bennett immediately got out and marched toward the entrance. Gabriel sat in the car a moment, looking down at his hands shamefully before he sighed and finally got out.

He figured Bennett had gone to report to his mother, so he went straight to her office and was surprised to see her standing at the door with a pile of clothes in her hands. His head hung a little as he approached her, and took the clothes she held out to him. A slight pout played on his lips before he turned to go back to his cell. _Back to my cage_, he thought.

He sat in the cell for a bit before resolving to change into the standard gray pajamas. He took off his jacket, his tie and his shirt and folded each item neatly into a pile, before he reached for the gray wife beater. As he put it on he spotted a bit of red, and looked closer as the shirt went over his head. He reached out to find that there were three red folders. _Mother,_ he thought as he opened one. A picture of a young girl with stick straight brown hair and brown eyes stared back at him as he began to read:

_Name: Abigail Fresca-Wrightenbalk_

_DOB: January 15, 1989_

_Place of Birth: Springfield, IL_

_Ability: Telepathy, Telekinesis, and possible potential for Intuitive Aptitude_

_Detained since: September 2007_

_Intuitive aptitude_, he thought, _is that what my ability is?_ He kept reading about Abigail's former state of Autism and of her murdering a nurse in St. John's Hospital and how easy it had been to capture her. He looked over the signature at the end of the report, _Thompson._ He grabbed the other files, flipping to the last pages of both, and sure enough, Thompson's name was signed on each. He sat for hours reading through the files, his brain going a mile a minute, deciphering every possible meaning behind his mother's secret gesture._ The deeds these children had done could unlock something, they had to, right?_ Sylar thought as he looked at all the pictures in all of the files. The happy family photo of Abby and her parents, all wearing matching sweaters; the photo of the young man known as Damon on a dilapidated boat with an older man, more than likely his father; and a photo of a dark skinned blonde in a tight dress, if it could be called a dress, with what seemed to her friends and drinks in all of their hands. _What does she want me to do with this?_

_

* * *

_The hours on the road dragged on until one of the lights on the dashboard started to flash.

"Oh shit," Damon said, waking up the girls who had fallen asleep.

"What?" Abby mumbled rubbing her eyes.

"We're almost out of gas," He replied glancing over at her.

"Where are we anyway?" Cana asked as she sat up and promptly cracked her neck.

"Pennsylvania, we been here two hours," Damon answered.

"Well, it looks like there's a gas station a few miles off the highway," Abby said as she pointed at a sign.

"We have no money," he said.

"You're right," Abby replied.

Cana rolled her eyes as Damon switched lanes to pull onto the exit ramp that Abby had pointed out. The road seemed to get more rural as the farther they went. "We're really out in the boonies now," Cana commented making a twanging sound like a banjo. Abby rolled her eyes.

"Does everything have to be a joke to you?" Abby huffed, turning to look at Cana.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"You act like a kid."

"Says the person who supposedly had autism," Cana retorted.

"That's not funny."

"What are you gonna do? Cry about it? 'Cause I can give you something to cry about." Cana's eyes silently dared Abby to try and hit her.

Damon pulled up to one of the pumps at the station and put the car in park.

"We have no money. How we gon' do dis?"

Abby opened her mouth to try and say something, but Cana had already climbed out of the car.

"What're you doing?" Abby called from the car.

"Just shut up and stay in the car," Cana ordered heading into the miniscule minimart in the station. She walked in to find the place in absolute squalor; all of the merchandise looked either expired or rotten; the floors looked like they had never been mopped; and most of the lights were blinking as if they were about to die at any second. Behind the counter sat a large, balding man who was staring at a copy of Hustler. She walked up to the counter and smiled at the man.

"Excuse me," she said, keeping her voice as demure as possible, "Are you still open?"

"We're closing in ten minutes," said the man, who hid his face behind the magazine.

"I was wondering if you could help me and my friends out. We need a full tank on pump 5."

The man moved the smutty magazine from in front of his eyes to look at the blonde who smiled at him.

"What's with the pajamas?" he asked.

"Me and my friends are on our way to a pajama party at Penn State," she replied, the lie coming out smoother than she thought.

The man got up from behind the counter and gave her a once-over.

"I'll just wait right here until you get back," she assured him by tapping the counter and batting her eyelashes.

The man ambled out of the minimart and walked over to the pump where the car was parked. He took off the gas cap and pumped the gas, and he looked into the car to see a greasy European and a young girl sitting in the front seat. He licked his lips as he eyed the young girl and said, "Howdy."

"Hi," Abby squeaked back and scooted a little closer to Damon who glanced at the fat man.

"I'm guessin' your little friend in there is gonna pay?"

Abby nodded furiously just wishing he would go away already. The gas attendant walked back to the minimart to find the blonde flipping through copy of Hustler he had left on the counter. She looked up at him seductively and smiled. "So, what time do you _get off_?" she asked.

He looked back at her and said, "Right about now."

"Is there anywhere around here more private? I'm not as brave as these girls in your little magazine."

The man headed towards the back room with Cana following him. Once in the room, he sat in the only chair and petted his lap. Cana stood at the door for a moment to lock it and turned back to sit in his lap. "So, nobody interrupts us," she whispered in his ear and immediately felt the evidence of how badly he wanted her poking her thigh. She held his face in her hands, with one running over the man's large bald spot before she grazed her lips over his ear and screamed. The scream wasn't heard, but a small quake moved through the entire store, knocking some of the merchandise onto the floor and splattering blood on the walls of the back room.

Cana walked out of the minimart a few minutes later with a ratty backpack and got in the car.

"What-" Abby started.

"Just drive. Now," Cana ordered, and Damon immediately pulled away from the pump.


	2. Keep Your Head

They're Just Kids

Chap. 2- Keep Your Head

_a/n: I own nothing, but the OC's are mine. Chapter title sponsored by the Tings Tings off of their album "We Started Nothing."Please enjoy_

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* * *

_Bennett had resolved to find a weakness in the monster he was forced to work with and kill him, but they had just got a lead on a new target.

Sylar sat in his cell processing everything that had happened: the bank, Jesse, Bennett, the red files. All of sudden he was aware of another presence in the room. He felt himself thrown against a wall by none other than his nemesis-turned-family-member, Peter. Peter held him in place by the throat. Sylar felt what was wrong immediately. "You have the hunger don't you? You're just like me now."

"I will never become like you," Peter spat out like venom.

"It's too late," Sylar replied, "Brother."

Peter screamed before snapping Sylar's neck single-handedly. "I can't!"

Angela burst into the cell after seeing her sons. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing!" She stopped mid-step as her youngest used his telekinesis to keep her from moving.

"I know exactly what I'm doing! Sylar's my brother? When were you going to tell me this? What other secrets have you been hiding from me? Mother? Tell me everything or else I'll rip them right outta your head!"

"No!" she whimpered as she felt her forehead start to open up as Peter began his invisible incision. She screamed.

Sylar could see everything upside down as he stood up, his neck still broken. He grabbed the sides of his head and snapped everything back into place. Sylar threw Peter towards the glass in the cell. The glass cracked as Peter's body hit and thudded to the ground. Sylar rushed over to his visibly shaken mother and asked, "Are you ok?"

She nodded in response with tears brimming in her eyes. _How could my baby do that to me?_ She thought.

They both looked down at the unconscious man on the floor. "Is he gonna be alright?" Sylar asked.

"Yes. I'll make sure of it," Angela replied as she turned from his grasp and knelt down next to her other son.

Bennett had just shown up as Sylar looked to the window. He nodded for Sylar to come, and he followed. "We got a new lead on a target," Bennett stated, his eyes still as cold as his voice.

"You want me to come with you?" Sylar asked, unsure since the bank incident.

"Don't make this any harder," Bennett replied as he walked away.

* * *

The car sped along the road going back towards the highway. Abby turned to see Cana rifling through the backpack that she had brought from the gas station and watched slack-jawed as she counted the largest amount of bills she had seen in her 19 years.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Abby asked.

"Nowhere you need to know about," Cana replied curtly as she went back to counting. _Where did you think I got it? I killed the guy and cleaned out the safe_, Abby listened to Cana's real answer in her head.

"Oh my God! Why?" Abby's voice grew louder.

Damon snuck glances over his shoulder and into the rearview mirror. Shocked at the prospect of what the blonde one had done, he tried to focus on the road, but the guilt started to creep in. "Why?" he asked softly, startling the two bickering girls.

Cana looked up at Damon through the rearview mirror. "You know we needed it. Don't play stupid, either of you," Cana stated as her gaze turned from the man driving to the girl with the accusing look on her face.

Abby turned back to face the road again and huffed. _ We're just a bunch of killers aren't we?_ She thought.

The wind had started to pick up as they kept driving, and Damon spotted a sign for what looked like a store.

"Oy! What's dat?" he asked nodding towards the sign.

Abby's eyebrows perked up as she read the sign. "Take that exit," she said excitedly. He veered in the direction Abby pointed out and as soon as the neon lights of the store's sign appeared over the horizon, Cana looked up from her counting and groaned in sheer agony. "Are you serious?"

"Hey, it has everything," Abby retorted. Cana rolled her eyes and stuck her lip out in response. Damon parked the car and reached under the steering wheel to uncross the wires. Cana took out a few of the bills and stuffed them in her pocket. As the car shut off, everyone climbed out with Abby telekinetically locking the doors.

"Wal-Mart? Really?" Cana griped as they started walking towards the entrance.

"I tink we just got one of dese back home en Greece. At least, I tink we did," said Damon as he scratched his head trying to remember.

"Guys, don't be like this. We could get clothes, food, soap. How much did you bring with you?" Abby asked.

"600," Cana replied.

As the three walked in, the greeter welcomed them but was ignored as they all veered off in their own separate directions, and after two hours, finally convened at the register with all that they had found. Abby sighed dejectedly.

"Umm, what were you guys thinking?" she asked as she looked in both of her traveling companions' carts. Damon's held every package of soup, rice, hot dogs, cupcakes, juices, soda and waters, while Cana's held clothes, shoes and various kinds of makeup. The other two just stared back at her. Abby's happened to be filled with soaps, lotions, face washes, and even baby wipes. She shook her head a moment. "Well, I guess Damon and I can put our carts together. It looks like we're going to have to go back to the clothing section if we actually wanna wear anything besides these," she explained tugging on her shirt a bit.

Cana shrugged, "Works for me." Damon pushed his cart towards the clothing section.

As they pushed all three carts towards the car, Damon finally piped up and asked, "Where are we gon' sleep?"

Abby telekinetically popped open the trunk and started to load everything in and said, "We could always sleep in the car-"

"Oh God, no!" Cana whined.

"We been stuck en prison fo' long time; we should sleep en beds," Damon replied as he got in the car and started to hot wire it again.

"Where are we gonna find a hotel?" Abby asked as she climbed in up front.

"I don't know, but we can spare the money for an actual bed and a shower," Cana replied as she climbed in and started counting out how much they may need for the hotel.

As they headed back towards the highway they saw a Motel 6 sign and drove towards it. The three entered the office and saw another balding man sitting behind the desk, only this time, he was watching _Friends_.

_Don't kill this one,_ Abby sent the warning to Cana.

_Shut up!_ Cana thought back and rung the bell.

The man looked up at the three. "A room for three?"

"Yeah," Damon replied straightening up a bit.

"Which card?"

Before Cana could speak and possibly screw things up, Abby interrupted, "We don't carry credit cards, way too easy to have your identity stolen. But we'd be willing to pay extra if we can pay in cash."

The man's eyes lit up and the three smiled, happy to pony up $200 for a night's stay. The three then went out to the car and brought all of their bags inside. As soon as they were finished, Cana spun in a circle happily, "Finally, civilization!"

Abby sat on one of the beds and clicked on the T.V. checking to see if there had been any news on their escape. Luckily there was none, but Abby knew the Company was going to do everything in its power to get them back as fast as possible.

"We need disguises," Abby thought out loud.

"I got that covered," Cana said as shook one of the Wal-Mart bags. She took out three boxes of hair dye and tossed two of the boxes at them.

Abby eyed the box, "Red? Really?"

Damon's eyes widened as he looked at the box of hair bleach that had been tossed at him. "You wan me to look like dis?"

"It would be harder to track us down. Do you guys wants help or should I just start on myself," she said shaking her box of jet black hair dye.

"I think I can do it on my own," said Abby as she headed towards the bathroom.

"You do dis to me?" Damon asked. Cana nodded and got to work.

* * *

The two men sat in the car, as Sylar munched on an apple, the radio stations changing every few moments. Bennett quickly got irritated, stopped Sylar's hand, "Just…sit."

Sylar leaned back in the car's seat. Bennett glanced over at him and said, "You know this was _her_ idea."

"You mean my mother?" Sylar replied, pausing his chewing.

"If it was up to me, I would've let you rot."

Sylar huffed. "No forgiveness, is that it?"

"You terrorized my daughter, you killed countless other including an interrogate who had valuable information-"

"Rehabilitation doesn't happen overnight. I am trying."

"I understand. Killing is just in your nature," Bennett finished before the car got quiet again.

Bennett watched their target through the window for a moment before he kicked down the door, only to find his daughter with the man he was after.

"Claire?"

"Dad?"

"He's your father?" asked the target, who was one of them who could create vortexes. "You set me up?"

"No, I swear."

The target had grabbed her and yelled, "Back off! Drop the gun!"

Sylar burst through the door and yelled back, "Let go of the girl!"

"Sylar," she gasped. "Dad, what is he doing here?"

"Let go of her Canfield, you don't stand a chance."

"Stand back; last warning," Sylar interjected.

"I didn't know; I'm sorry," Claire turned to Canfield.

"It's not over yet. Hold onto something," Canfield replied as he moved away from her and began to open up a vortex. Instantly objects started flying towards the center of the room as the vortex got bigger. Claire rushed to grab something -anything really- that would keep her from getting sucked in. Sylar grabbed onto one of the pillars in the house, while Noah grabbed onto the other. Canfield slipped out of the house, leaving them to fend for themselves.

"Hold on, Claire!" Bennett yelled over the whipping sound of the vortex.

Sylar let go out the pillar.

"Dad! Help me!" Claire screamed as she felt herself losing her grip on some iron railing.

Noah reached out to try and grab her hand. They barely touched before she lost her grip. She felt herself being pulled back from her impending doom by the Boogeyman himself. She looked up at him defiantly, but not willing to let herself die. The vortex slowly dispersed, and Claire plopped to the floor. All heaved huge sighs of relief as they began to stand up.

"You okay?" Sylar asked.

"Peachy," Claire spat back.

Sylar ran after Canfield while Claire let herself be hugged by her father.

"Oh, thank God. Are you ok?"

Sylar came back trying to catch his breath, "Target's gone."

"He can't be far," Bennett replied as he tried to see which direction Canfield had fled. He turned back to his daughter. "Claire, where did Mr. Canfield go?"

She shook her head. "Leave him alone. He doesn't wanna hurt anyone."

"This isn't a game. He's dangerous."

"Who are you to talk? Bringing _him_ here? Tell me you're not working with him after what he did to me."

Sylar stepped towards her, "Claire, you hate me. I understand. When I touched your hand, I could feel all the pain that I caused you. I never meant-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bennett bellowed at the other man. "You don't get to talk to her ever." He turned back to his baby girl. "Look, we'll talk more about this when we get home, but right now, you need to tell me where Mr. Canfield went."

"He's not a killer," she whispered back. "He's having problems like I am. He just- he didn't have you to help him."

"Ok then, let me just talk to him. If what you say is true, we can make other arrangements. You can trust me, Claire. I wouldn't send anybody to Level 5 that doesn't belong there."

She hung her head a little, "He's at the Griffith Park carousel."

* * *

Cana emerged from the bathroom and whipped her freshly dyed jet black locks that had been blow-dried straight. She then climbed onto the bed where Damon lay watching TV and scratching at his blond but scabbed head and started jumping. Damon reached up to grab the girl before she fell over, but ended up underneath her as she toppled over. Cana giggled as his hands tried to find places to hold her without touching her inappropriately.

"This is nice," she said as snuggled into the young European's chest. "We're free, we're clean, and we're all gonna be going home."

Abby huffed, rolled her eyes at the pair and rolled over on her bed to face the wall.

"What's with you?" Cana asked as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"I thought we discussed this. I'm not going home," Abby retorted as she tugged her sheets closer to her body. It was then that she felt the bed dip as more weight was put on it and Cana's face looked at her upside down.

"Are you still going to let the fact that your parents think you're dead stop you?"

Abby instantly sat up straight almost knocking the now raven-haired girl to the floor. "Wow! I thought you were pretty dumb, but Jesus! You act like such a child!" Cana's mouth dropped open in offense. "You don't get that I don't have a purpose with my family anymore. The Company took that away from me."

"Like dey didn't take from us?" Damon asked as he sat up in bed.

"Yeah," Cana retorted.

"I lost my fam'ly, too. I live in very small fishing village wit my parents. I wan to be just like my father. Every day, we would dake da boat out en try to catch many fish to sell. We always got just enough for us to get by. But my father wan me to no be like him, go to a…a university, but dat didn't matter to me. When I was 18, we started argue a lot bout it en one day we started yelling at each other en he swore at me that if I didn't go to school, I would end up failure like him," Damon hung his head a little and both of the girls crawled into his bed, each taking a shoulder to pet. He continued, "I try en tell him that da life we have is no bad, but he wouldn' listen... A storm come outta nowhere en da boat was tossed around. I start screaming at him en I didn't know wha was happening. It came outta nowhere and it hit him."

"What did?" Abby asked clutching his sleeve, too scared to try and probe his mind for the answer.

"Eh lightning. It hit him; I watch him die en front of me. I cried for him to come back, but no. I cry da whole way back to da dock en den I ran home to tell my mother. She was hysterical; she blame me for da whole thing. Calling me a devil. She ran from me and onto da dock. I try talking to her but she no listen. Da storm had come to shore en da wind had picked up en she fell in the water. I try to go after her, but da water had sucked her down under. I ran to a neighbor house and dey called da police. Dey took away my parents en dis man Thompson talk to me bout how he could help me find a new place to live, but I end up dere with you guys."

The girls were both quiet, with Abby wiping away a few tears with Damon's sleeve and Cana pouting and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Abby croaked out.

"Poor baby," Cana said as she cuddled closer to him. They all lay silently together until Cana and Damon had fallen asleep_._ Abby then crawled out of the crowded bed, turned off the TV, crawled into her own bed, sighed heavily and fell asleep.

The next day, the group sat in the car as it drove through Illinois. Abby sat huddled in her seat not wanting to look at anything. The other two could see her distress and they looked at each other through the rearview window sadly. As the signs for the Springfield exit started to appear, Cana leaned over and slapped Damon's shoulder. He wanted to take the exit, but wouldn't dare try upsetting Abby in her already distressed state since they first entered Illinois.

Abby dared to steal a glance at the highway signs as she moped in her seat. Her heart started to skip a beat as the exit came up. She swallowed hard, "Take this exit," she croaked out. Damon glanced at her for a quick moment before following Abby's order. He looked at Cana through the rearview mirror who simply shrugged her shoulders.

Abby kept directing where Damon should go until the turned into a cul-de-sac. She then ordered for him to stop the car. "What time is it?" she asked.

"4:45 pm," Cana replied as took as look at the cheap clear plastic watch she had procured on their shopping excursion at Wal-Mart.

Abby didn't reply but sat staring at the white ranch-style house that had been her childhood home. After an hour, a pair of cars pulled into the driveway, five minutes apart. Abby ducked out of sight, but lifted her head so she could just barely peek at them through her window. She smiled sadly as she watched her mother and father walk into the home. Her mother had gotten bigger than when she last saw her, her hair had turned gray and she had a sad, lost look on her face. Her father shared a similar expression on his face as he had walked in; his hair had thinned out more, but he had lost weight, making his face more gaunt and made him look much older than she had remembered. She sniffled at what her parents had transformed into; she bit her lip.

The sky had quickly turned from blue, to deep red, to violet as Abby sat watching her family through the huge bay window that was in her old living room. Memories from her childhood had run through her head as she studied every object that she could see through the window. She remembered where everything was, where she was when they were placed there, when certain objects had been moved. She waited for hours until her parents finally retreated to their room for the night, clicking off the light to living room. With that, Abby finally reclined back in her chair and sighed. She looked to her left to see that Damon wasn't in the driver's seat anymore and as she turned to look at where he had gone, she saw that Cana had fallen asleep in the backseat, the girl's drool making a small puddle on the leather. She turned back to her house and watched as Damon crept up to the house towards the bay window. She watched as his hand wiggled through the small crack that had been left open and reached for something, quickly drawing his hand back as carefully as he could and ran back to the car.

Abby gaped at him as he climbed back into the driver's seat and plopped something in Abby's lap. As he started the car again, Cana yawned and wiped the drool from her face as she heard the engine start up. Abby looked at what he had given her, turning it around in her hand, and it was a silver picture frame that held a photo of her parents and she. It was the photo from the last Christmas they had together. She remembered the horrid matching sweaters and the smiles on their faces. She felt her heart tug, almost like it would break, and she clutched the frame to her tightly. As Damon pulled out of the cul-de-sac, Abby looked at him and smiled. Damon heard the newly redhead's voice in his head, _Thank you._

_

* * *

_The carousel seemed to sparkle in the darkness of the park as Claire approached it. "Steven?" she called out as she searched for Canfield, eventually finding him sitting in one of the seats on the carousel. "I talked to my dad. He's willing to listen."

Canfield's head rested on the back of the seat in front of him. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"What happened?"

He hesitated. "They never showed up. You were right, Claire. My wife, my kids-they're afraid of me!" He climbed out of his seat and off of the carousel with Claire following behind him. "Maybe I am monster," he said as he watched the young blonde walk in front of him. He then heard the click of a gun cocking behind him.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Bennett interjected, holding his gun up to the back of the other man's head.

Claire turned around. "Dad, what are you doing?"

Bennett held up his hand, "It's ok, it's alright. We're just talking. I'll make you a deal, Steven." He pointed out Sylar standing next to the car in the parking lot, the lights on. "My partner is standing over there by my car. You make him disappear, and I'll let you go."

"I don't understand. You want me to kill your partner?" Canfield asked nervously; weary of feeling the cold metal against the back of his head.

"Do it and I'll let you go. I give you my word."

"What are you saying? He does not have to do this," said Claire.

"Stay out of this, Claire," he father responded.

"She's right. I can't. I'm not a killer," Canfield admitted.

"Maybe not, but he is. He needs to be destroyed. Unfortunately, I can't do it."

"Please-" Canfield pleaded as he turned to face the man who threatened him.

"Not asking," Bennett retorted as he cocked the gun again.

"Dad, no!" Claire begged.

"I'm doing this for us, Claire. For what Sylar did to you."

Canfield started to tear up, his words coming out choked up, "You people, you've taken everything from me."

"Do it. Kill him now." Bennett held the gun up to the other man's face.

The group watched as Sylar started to approach them after becoming curious of what was going on. Claire turned to her father. "What are you doing?"

Canfield stepped away from the father and daughter and proclaimed, "I won't be a monster!" With that, he opened up a vortex and let himself be sucked in by it disappearing forever.

"No!" Claire screamed in disbelief, almost reaching out the man who had just disappeared. She looked back to her father.

The car pulled up in front of the Bennett home when Noah stopped the car. Claire was about to climb out of the car when her father stopped her. "We'll talk more when I get home tomorrow, ok?" Bennett offered. When she still tried to climb out of the car, he said, "Claire, I know you're disappointed but I did what I had to do. For us."

Sylar spoke from the backseat of the car, " She doesn't believe a word you're saying. She knows exactly what you did back there, why you didn't take down Steven Canfield when you had the chance."

"Nobody's talking to you-" Bennett tried to shut Sylar up.

"She finally sees you for what you are. A user, isn't that right, Claire? You used her to try to find that poor man, and then you used him to try to kill me, because to you I'm nothing but a monster. He doesn't see our humanity, Claire. He never will."

With that, Claire finally got out with her father following after her. Sylar smiled slightly to himself. Bennett stopped her in the middle of the street. "You're not gonna listen to him, are you? The man's a deranged sociopath. He's a killer-"

"He's a monster-" she interjected.

"Yes, and you are my daughter, and everything I do is to protect you, to protect this family. Tell me you understand that."

"I understand."

He enclosed his daughter in a hug, placing his chin on top of her head. "It's all gonna be ok." She let go of him and went into the house.

Sylar entered his cell again with thoughts of the day's events running over and over through his head, but once he changed into his pajamas, he spotted the red files that he kept hidden. _ I guess he's too focused on killing me to even think about these rug rats,_ He thought as he started to look through the files again. Abigail's had been thoroughly read through multiple times, not for memorization,_ Got that one covered_, he thought as he smiled to himself. He kept reading through them, still trying to decipher whether his mother really wanted him to try and strike out on his own and nab one if not all of them.

He flipped open one. It was the man, more like a boy really from his photograph:

_Name: Damon Pavlis_

_DOB: February 22, 1987_

_Place of Birth: Volos, Greece_

_Ability: Air pressure manipulation (Weather manipulation, with an ability to create lightning bolts, earthquakes and tsunamis)_

_Detained since: August 2007_

Damon's act of accidental, weather element-involved parricide seemed to strike a chord in Sylar, bringing back old memories involving scissors, harsh words, and a mural painted in blood. _ Both would be clever pawns to play with_, he thought. _ It might be hard to get to them, they may have split up by now. Either may or may not go home_, he thought as he opened up the last file again.

He picked up one of the many photos that littered the file. He looked at one photo where the girl sat on a couch, dressed in what he deemed was an extremely revealing sequined dress, with yet another drink in her right hand with her left arm wrapped around the shoulder of a man old enough to possibly be her father with steel gray hair. Her head was leaning on his shoulder, her cheeks were flushed, and the man's face was turning towards hers, as if to whisper something in her ear, a cat like smile on his face. Sylar rolled his eyes, _ Oh , Thompson!_


	3. Make a Move

They're Just Kids

Chapter 3- Make a Move

_A/N: Chapter title sponsored by Lostprophets off of their album "Start Something". Is anybody willing to leave me a review?_

* * *

Bennett had gone home. Sylar wasn't sure when he would be coming back; no one would talk to him about it. In fact, nobody, besides his mother, talked to him at all. After spending the early morning hours dealing with aftermath of losing Canfield, he walked down the hallways of the company by himself when he happened to pass by a wall of photographs. The ghosts from his past stared back at him with smiles, but he never saw that side of them. _ I only saw them tremble with fear_, he thought as he felt something wet and sticky hit his cheek.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to wipe it away, but forced himself to wipe it on his sleeve as he saw a group of agents glare at him as they passed, with one of them glancing at the wall forlornly. He heaved a sigh once they had disappeared around the corner and headed down to his mother's office.

He knocked gently. "Come in," Angela's voice commanded loudly as he slipped into the room. "Gabriel," she said as a warm smile came to her face. He sat across from her, his hands in his lap, and his eyes looked far off. She got up from behind the desk and held his face in her hands. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Is there anything I can do to help until Noah comes back?" he asked as he looked up at his mother.

She gently stroked his cheek with her thumb as she thought for a moment before abruptly letting go and went back to her desk. She pulled out three manila folders and pushed them in front of Sylar. "They're not the ones I assigned to you earlier, but one of these," she explained as she tapped the folders with a sharp fingernail, "can probably give you a lead on where those kids went."

He slowly reached out to the grab the folders and asked, "Why are the kids so important?"

"They're too young to be killers."

_ They aren't secretly related to me are they?_ He thought as he internally smirked.

"No, but they have a great amount of power at their young age and are still manifesting, meaning that they're too dangerous to be out and about in normal society," she replied matter-of-factly. "Kids should be allowed to be kids, I know that now," she tried mumbling to herself, but Sylar caught every word of it.

He got up from his chair and she rose as well. She walked him to the door with a hand on his back. "I have every confidence in you, Gabriel, you know that." He nodded in reply. "Just keep me posted," she said as he walked out of the door.

As he walked down the hallway to get prepared for his mission, he flitted through the folders quickly. Michael Fitzgerald, enhanced strength and durability; Tina Ramirez, breathes out cyanide instead of carbon dioxide; and Dennis McDonald, can render others physically weak, mostly into unconsciousness. Intel had said that the three had run off to Dennis' girlfriend's apartment in Chicago. _This should be quick and easy_, he thought as he headed to the airport.

* * *

The air had gotten drier as they drove south.

"Where are we headed now anyway?" Cana asked as she stared out of the open window.

Nobody answered. Damon took his eyes away from the rearview mirror and with a cough, kept his eyes on the road.

"You mean we've been driving all this time and you have no idea where we're gonna end up?"Again nobody answered. Abby stared out the window, watching the arid scenery fly by like a fast-forwarded filmstrip. Cana twiddled her thumbs as she started, "So, are we still going to L.A.?"

Damon looked to rearview mirror and then looked to the red-head in the passenger's seat. She looked back at him coldly, "I guess we don't have much of a choice."

"Ok, whatever. I just don't what you guys are gonna do when you guys get there."

"You guys? What you mean?" Damon asked.

"I'm going back to my friends, my apartment, my life before all this drama happened." Abby's eyes rolled again and she huffed through her nose. Cana glared daggers at the back of the girl's head. "And what's that supposed to mean?" the raven-haired girl demanded.

"You really are an idiot," Abby ground out, trying to restrain herself from telekinetically strangling her nemesis. "If you go back to your old life, you're just gonna get caught again."

"Well it's not like I'm trying to go home so whatever, I don't care," Cana replied thoroughly dropping the subject. After a few minutes of utter silence, she piped up again, "I wanna go out tonight."

"How are we supposed to go out? We're just gonna be exposing ourselves to the company. Besides, there probably isn't anything to do around here anyway," Abby retorted.

"Oh please, you're just mad 'cause you aren't legal."

"Neither are you, stupid!"

"I'm gonna-" Cana started as she raised her fist. Damon's hand immediately flew back to try and shove her back, but instead a spark of white lightning flew off of his fingers, charring a hole in the polyester seat. Cana immediately jumped back with a "Holy shit!" and raised her hands up in surrender.

Abby looked over at Damon and smiled, "Nice."

* * *

The plane ride was relatively quick and as soon as he arrived at Chicago O'Hare International Airport; he had a car waiting for him. He smirked to himself as he dropped his bags in the trunk and drove off to the south side of Chicago to the apartment of Rachel St. John.

When he pulled up to the building, he put the car in park and sat back in his seat with a sigh. He watched the lights of different apartments flicker on and off, and it kept him interested for about five minutes. He began to leaf through the files of all six people he was after. He remembered how only a few weeks ago he was doing the same thing, but before he was always out for blood. _ Not so different from before,_ he thought.

As he looked at the pictures of the three escapees who were supposedly held up inside the apartment when something flickered out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted in that direction to see a blond man with dark eyes peek from behind the curtain. _ Confirmation,_ he thought as he slipped the files under the passenger's seat and got out of the car. _ Hmm, maybe I should call this in…..nah! _he thought as he got out of the car and headed into the building.

He was easily able to slip inside, unlocking the front door with his telekinesis. He went straight for the stairwell, not bothering with the elevator and the possibility of having to interact with someone and getting distracted. _The thrill of the hunt_, he thought and he bounded up the three flights and opened the door to the hallway.

He could hear the sounds of glass breaking, people arguing, a large thud, and the sound of a woman screaming. He tried the door knob to find it unlocked, and he soundlessly pushed it open. The front hallway of the apartment was narrow with pictures on the walls, but most of the frames were askew, with a few lying broken on the floor. He could still hear the sounds of scuffling and the sobbing of the woman, and he continued through the apartment slowly, every sense open and aware.

He approached the doorway to the kitchen to find two men in suits, more than likely other agents, lying in pools of blood on the linoleum. The kitchen looked it had been destroyed in the scuffle: dishes and small kitchen appliances lay broken on the floor. A woman leaned against the counter sobbing; her hair was disheveled as if someone had been dragging her around by her hair.

He decided to make his presence known, "Rachel St. John?"

The woman turned and looked at him desperately. "Oh my God! Please help me! They killed them. They're insane." _This is new, _Sylar thought, _people are never relieved to see me._

She tried to run to him, but proceeded to faint under a mist of green gas.

"Rachel?" He asked, reaching out to try and shake her awake. She barely groaned in response. _Shit!_ his mind groaned.

* * *

The sky was painted a bright bloody red as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. As they drove along I-8 West, they all heard a distinct clanking coming from under the hood. Damon's face started to fall as he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car. Abby sat with her chin in her hand, shaking her head a bit. "This can't be happening," she muttered.

"Where are we anyway?" Cana yawned as she awoke from the backseat.

"We passed Phoenix over an hour ago," Abby responded.

Damon came back into the car and shook his head. Abby got out of the car and popped the hood. She stared hard at the parts, trying to decipher what could be wrong, but all of sudden started to understand. The timing belt in the engine had snapped, and if they kept driving further, the engine would be completely shot. She slammed the hood of the car down with a huff and leaned into Damon's window, "We're gonna have to kill the engine and push it to the nearest town."

"Oh fucking A!" Cana whined as she got out the car along with Damon. The three stood in front of the trunk and began pushing the dead car along the deserted highway.

They turned onto the first exit, leading them to a town called Laguna. As they pushed the car along the main road they saw a repair shop, a rundown motel, and a small bar. All the other homes in town seemed to be pushed far away from the main road. Only a few people stood out on the main road and watched as the group shoved the car until one of them approached the group.

"Hey, ya' guys need help?" asked the man, his voice a slow southern drawl.

"Now what gave you _that_ idea?" Abby asked shoving the car using her back.

"Glen's repair shop might still be open. If ya' like I can run up ahead and let 'im know ya' comin'," he said.

"Thank you," Cana replied, batting her eyelashes as she softly grunted in exertion. The man blushed a bit and smiled at her before running off to the repair shop.

Once they finally reached it, the man looked under the hood and confirmed everything that Abby had already discovered. "I don' have da belt for dis here model. I can order it, but it won't get here 'til next week," he stated.

"How much?" Damon asked.

"$850," Glen replied without batting an eye.

"You're kidding me?" Abby groaned.

_We don't even have that much anymore_, Cana thought as she slumped against the driver's door.

Abby heard her thought and started thinking, taking everything into consideration. Suddenly the answer popped into her head. "What about junking the car for its parts? Could we get paid for that?" Her eyes darted between the car she was leaning on and the greasy southern man.

"Yeah, if I take'r good look 'round it. I could let ya' know by lunchtime tomorrow how much I can give ya' for da car."

"Dat works fo us, right?" Damon asked his traveling companions. The girls both nodded in reply.

"Well then if ya' don't mind, I'll close up for da night and I'll see ya'll tomorrow," said Glen as he shooed the group out the shop.

The group unpacked the car and dragged everything down the main road to the shoddy, dilapidated motel. They checked into the room, and Cana immediately locked herself in the bathroom. Abby sat down on one of the beds and Damon slumped down in a lumpy wing-backed chair.

"What is she doing in there?" Abby asked.

Damon just shrugged. He sighed, "Maybe tomorrow, when we get da money fo da car, we get new one."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure where we can get a new car around here that can get us to L.A.-" Abby started but was immediately interrupted as Cana walked out of the bathroom scantily clad in a pair of tight black shorts, a chopped up white wife-beater, and a black bikini top and cheap black wedges the group had found on the adventure at Wal-Mart. The now raven haired girl's hair still managed to stay straight as the two watched as she sprinkled baby powder on top of her head and brushed it out, she then dug out a small wad of cash from her bag and slipped it into her pocket. She grabbed one of the hotel keys and was about to head out of the door when Damon held the door shut.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"I told you I wanted to go out," she replied curtly as she tried to pull the door again.

"What are you thinking dressed like that?" Abby asked as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"I'm thinking I need to get a drink before I kill myself. You guys have been boring me to death this whole damn trip. I just wanna be alone for a while," she said as she shoved Damon away from the door before quickly running out the door. Abby and Damon looked at each other for a moment, before Abby sighed heavily and both followed after the determined drinker.

* * *

Sylar glanced up at the three people who just entered the kitchen. One of them was a large man with tribal tattoos that laced his meaty arms, another was a Hispanic woman with green gas emitting from her lips, and last was the man he had spied peeking from behind the curtains, Dennis McDonald. He stepped in front of the other two and said, "Rachel has a delicate sensibility. I wouldn't want her to be distressed. She got so upset when we killed the last batch of agents." The man smirked but was pushed out of the way as the woman stepped closer to Sylar.

"Wait a minute! I've seen this guy before," Tina said as she studied him. Her face flushed a little as realization poured over her, "Oh my God! You're Sylar!" she exclaimed pointing at him. "You killed Eden. You took down Elle. If it wasn't for you, we'd all still be rotting in level five. I'm Tina and this is Dennis and Michael," she said holding out her hand with a smile.

_Wait a minute, I have…fans?_ Sylar thought as he took a small step back away from the group.

"I've heard so many stories about you," said Dennis as he tried to shake Sylar's hand. "I almost didn't think you were real. Are you here to join us?"

Sylar smirked, cocking his eyebrow as he replied, "Nope." He let out a roar, courtesy of Jesse, the escapee that he had killed during the bank incident, and the group was pushed away from him all grabbing for their ears.

The impact of the sound wave had killed Dennis, leaving him as nothing but a pile of charred bones. Tina and Michael looked down as the remains horrified. "Now, surrender," Sylar stated.

The tattoos that covered Michael's arms glowed a bit as the fire in his eyes grew. "Why I oughta'-" he started as he began to charge at the man who had just killed his friend.

But Sylar simply lifted his hand and telekinetically grabbed him by the throat. "Michael Fitzgerald, enhanced strength, durability," He dictated the file he memorized with just a glance, "But how tough are you when I can telekinetically close off your windpipe?" The muscular man stood suspended in thin air, gasping and gurgling for breath. He did the same to the woman. "Tina Ramirez, exudes chlorine gas instead of carbon dioxide, very deadly." Tina swiped at the air trying to get out of his grasp in vain.

All of a sudden, Sylar felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at Rachel, her eyes were filled with fear and desperation as she begged, "Please don't kill them. Please you saved me, but you don't have to kill them." Her voice softened even further, "Please."

* * *

Abby and Damon walked into the bar and were immediately hit with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and God only knew what else. Abby shivered a bit, completely skeeved out as Damon strode into the thick of the bar searching for Cana.

All of a sudden they heard a loud squeal and spotted the girl giggling with a bunch of men around her who were pouring her another shot of what Abby assumed was tequila. They watched as Cana swilled down the drink and patted the face of a beefy bald man, who was giving her more than a once-over. They approached quietly, sliding between members of the all male crowd who had gathered around the bar. The sound of a jukebox could be heard and all of a sudden the distinct thumping of drums caught Cana's attention. She smiled as she stood up on the bar.

"Oh dear god!" Abby whispered, completely shocked and appalled at her behavior.

The men started clapping along to the beat of Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" as they watched the young girl's hips sway to the music. She whipped her hair around as she strutted down the bar, knocking over drinks left and right. She giggled as she looked down at the mess she made, but continued to dance along to the music, her arms flailing to the riffs of the guitar as she wiggled her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the blonde head of Damon and smiled and waved flirtatiously at him. She then bent over and patted the head of a man sitting at the bar watching her.

She kept dancing down the bar, her eyes glazed over in her intoxication as she pushed her hair out of her face when she spotted a small red head bobbing through the crowd. Her face switched into a hard glare as she grabbed the first bottle she could find that she hadn't knocked over. She grabbed the bottle and chugged its contents and smashed it against the bar. She searched around for the red hair; when she did, she raised her arm back and started to jump off of the bar.

Damon watched the drunken girl's actions and immediately ran towards Abby, pushing men out of the way, earning him a few elbows to the gut along the way. He watched as the girl leapt off of the bar, flying at young Abby. A loud "Whoa" was heard as the crowd reacted to the scene. Panicking, the red head immediately put up her hands and Cana stopped in midair. Damon immediately grabbed Cana by the waist, pretending to hold her up. Abby looked frightened at Damon who nodded. Abby put her hands down, relinquishing her hold on the drunk psychopath who was threatening her with the broken beer bottle. She immediately turned and pushed her way out of the bar.

Cana violently kicked and flailed the arm that held the beer bottle in the direction of Abby's retreating form. She slammed her other fist on Damon's arms as he held her tightly to him. The men of the bar started to back away from the couple as Cana started screaming, "You come back here, you bosssy bitch! I'm not finissshed wi' you! Lemme go dammit!"

Damon reached with one arm to grab the bottle from Cana's hand, his other arm still holding tight to her. She wouldn't let go, so he grabbed and squeezed her wrist until her hold of it slacked. The bottle crashed to the ground as Damon slung the drunk girl over his shoulder and said, "I take her home. Nothing ta see an'more."

He walked out with the girl punching his back and kicking him in the stomach, but ignored the blows as he determinedly walked back to motel room and opened the door. He walked in to see Abby looking at the TV; her eyes were puffy as she sniffled.

Abby didn't dare turn around to look at them. She could hear the whining and shuffling of the other girl as she was plopped down on one of the beds.

Damon bent down to take off the girl's shoes as she tried slapping his hands away. "Ged off me!" she slurred as she quickly grew tired of hitting him and smacked his head. He ignored it as the other shoe dropped. He pulled back the sheets and started to push the girl to lie down, but she fought back, scratching at his arms and shoving him away from her, but her body reclined into the mattress. She curled herself into the pillow but gave Damon a deadly glare as her eyes started to grow heavy.

When her eyes had finally closed and her breathing steadied, he placed a trashcan by the girl's bed and went over to sit next to Abby. Abby felt the bed give under his weight as he sat down next to her. He opened up his mouth to say something, but she sniffled again and leaned over to grab him. He winced at the contact, the bruises all over his chest beginning to make their presence known. She sobbed into his shirt and his arms encircled her body, pulling her closer and leaning his head to rest on top of hers.

"I was so scared," Abby croaked out.

"Is ok," Damon whispered back. "I not let her do anyt'ing ta hurt you."

Abby swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "I was scared of what I might've done to her."

Damon said nothing but held her, rubbing her back gently.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sylar stood by the doorway of the kitchen as agents, cleaners, and medical personnel filled the apartment. They gathered the remains of the agents and Dennis and were detaining Michael and Tina. Sylar's head turned as heard one of the agents, mainly the one who had spat on him only 4 hours earlier. "Bind them good. And don't forget to have the Haitian process the woman," the agent ordered, pointing in various directions.

He went up to the agent, "You're going to erase her memories?"

The other agent sneered at him, "What do you care?"

Sylar wondered that himself. _The one person who saw me as a hero, and she won't even remember it,_ he thought as he walked away. Another agent followed him to his car. He turned to look at the agent. He was young, thin, and completely frightened. He smiled to himself. "Yeah?"

"They told me to give you this, sir," said the young agent as he handed him a thin file, his hands trembling with fear.

"Uh, thanks," Sylar replied, taking the file. The agent quickly turned around and walked away as quickly as he could get away with before he broke into a run back to the apartment building.

He got into the car and started it. As the engine warmed up he quickly read the papers and pocketed the plane ticket to Phoenix. He was onboard the flight within an hour, and he watched as the sky change over from a powder blue, to red, to lavender as he finally landed in Phoenix. Another car was waiting for him and he quickly dropped his bag in the trunk and drove off.

He started mulling over the new details he had received before he drove to catch his flight. The group had been spotted at a Phoenix gas station, and they were almost unrecognizable. They had each dyed their hair in order to fly under the radar, but intel was able to pull up some pictures from the security cameras.

They had murdered a gas station attendant in the backwoods of Pennsylvania, but weren't sure who exactly killed him. The odds were with either of the girls: Abby's telekinetic ability to force a hole through the man's eardrums, or the more than likely sonic scream of Cana. The small vault in the gas station had been cleaned out and using the money, funded their stays at small motels and their supplies.

He traveled to a modestly priced hotel a few miles from the airport, after deciding that chasing them down completely exhausted would do him no good. As he walked into his hotel room, he plopped the stack of files on top of the night stand and loosened his tie. He opened up his bag to look for pajamas, but when he saw the standard gray ones the company had provided for him, he shoved them to the bottom of the bag and decided on a shower.

Afterwards, he lay down on the bed in his boxers, enjoying the softness of the mattress as opposed to the hard slab that served as his bed back in his cell. He pulled the sheets up to his chin and turned off the lights. He lay in the dark silence of his room, even though he could hear the sound of a headboard slamming into a wall and the whimpers of a woman in passion five doors down from him. All he heard everywhere else was the steady sounds of the other guests' snores. His body was exhausted, but his mind was still working through his plan of attack for tomorrow. His mind flashed with the photos of the dead gas station attendant, the sight of the dead agents. _ Even though I'm on the other side, the results are the same,_ he thought. _ Death. What am I gaining from this?_

_Possible protégés_, the thought suddenly flashed in his mind. _New toys to play with. _He smiled to himself as his mind finally quieted down to let him sleep.

* * *

Cana's eyes opened slowly and quickly shut as she was blinded by the amount of sunlight that filled the quiet motel room. She tugged the blanket over her head, trying to will herself to go back to sleep, but it wouldn't come. The stillness of the room felt like it was screaming at her. All she heard was the rustling of her sheets as she tossed and turned. She finally pushed back the sheets to find that she was alone. The other bed was made and she didn't see anyone else's bags other than her own. She shot out of the bed and ran to her bag, only to find a few twenties left of the money they, never mind, she had stolen for them.

_They fucking ditched me, _she thought angrily. She looked at the clock on the T.V.; it was 3:30 pm._ They're not coming back._ Her heart skipped a beat at the realization, but her emotions switched to anger as she marched into the bathroom and took a scalding hot shower. She stood in front of the mirror as she blew her hair straight. _If they dare come back, they're gonna pay._

She walked back into the room and changed her clothes. She packed everything that she had left. As she pulled the zipper of her bag closed, the door opened. She had expected it to be housekeeping, but as she spotted a flash of red and then blonde, she frowned.

Abby and Damon walked into the room smiling, both hoping that Cana would be happy with their news. Their faces fell as soon as they saw her dressed with her bags packed. She glared at them.

"You're up," Abby commented as plainly as she could.

"What are you still doing here?" Cana asked uncrossing her arms and putting a hand on her hip.

"We went out all day ta get new car," Damon replied, his thumb pointing towards the parking lot.

"Yeah," Abby piped up, "We got over $2,000 for the parts, and we got a decent used car that can get us to California."

"And you took my money?"

"Your money?"

"Yeah, my money. I'm the one who stole it, so it's mine."

"I thought that money was for all of us."

"No!" Cana retorted, utterly flabbergasted by Abby's assumption. "I was only sharing because I felt sorry for you guys."

"Sorry? You've barely done anything the whole time we've been on this trip, besides drool all over the backseat, and get trashed like you did last night!"

"Well so what? At least I know how to actually have some fun! Unlike you and weather-man over there, crying over past mistakes and throwing yourselves a pity party, I move on. I do what I want."

"Do you even have a soul, Cana? Seriously? Because all you ever think about is yourself! Damon and I weren't abandoning you like you're accusing us of! We were thinking about all of us!"

"I don't need you," Cana sneered as she grabbed her bag and made her way towards the door. Damon stood in front of the door. "Move!" she ordered.

He didn't budge. "Stop acting like little girl!"

"Fuck you, Damon! Better yet, go fuck Abby, she'd drop her panties for you in a second," Cana spat out as she tried to push him out of the way.

The anger ran through his veins, and the sound of thunder could be heard outside. His finger tips crackled with small bits of electricity as his hands reached out to stop the girl in front of him. Cana felt the volts running through her body when he shoved her onto the other bed. Her body convulsed as she quickly sat up and let out a scream that slammed Damon's body against the door and Abby onto the floor.

Abby scrambled to her knees, watching Cana grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder. Abby reached a hand out, and Cana was slammed onto the floor. Abby rose to her feet. "Fine. You wanna leave? Then leave," the red head ground out.

"Then tell your little boyfriend to get out of my way," Cana retorted as she tried to stand up on shaky legs. _Besides, he really wants to fuck me. You're just jealous,_ she thought as she reached down to grab her bag again.

"You're just mad because I have more class than you could ever dream of having," Abby replied to the Cana's thought that had practically slapped her in the face.

Damon finally stood, restraining the urge to slap the bratty girl who was trying to leave. Cana promptly flipped them off as she exited, throwing the room key into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Cana looked at the few cars that filled the parking spaces in front of her. Deciding it didn't matter which one was theirs, she let out a roar. She flipped over a cream colored Toyota Maxima until it rested on its roof twenty feet away. She turned from the wreck in a huff and headed towards the highway on foot. _I don't need them,_ she thought _ I can do it on my own, just like before_.

* * *

Sylar had decided to sleep in. _ They shouldn't be on the move now, _ he thought. The file had pictures of them pushing the car they had originally stolen during the breakout. _The car needs to be fixed and they won't get very far on foot_. He sighed as he lay in bed, realizing the time was still passing even if he was doing nothing. _ That little Japanese man's power would be useful right about now_, he thought as he finally got out of bed and dressed. He grabbed an apple out of the complementary fruit basket that had been left on one of the tables.

He checked out of the room and got on I-8 West, going over where they could possibly be while Bob Dylan's "Man in the Long Black Coat" played on the radio. He decided to turn off of the highway as he saw a sign for a gas station. When no attendant came out to help him, he climbed out of the car, grabbing one of the many photographs from his files, and walked into the minimart. He looked around a moment before walking over to the cashier, a woman who looked to be well over 30 with too much makeup and over the top hair.

He cleared his throat, and her head turned to look at him. "Can I help ya', sir?"

He showed her the photograph. "Have you seen these people?"

The woman took a hard look at the picture. "Yeah", she paused. "These kids went on down ta Glen's to see what he could for 'em."

"And where might Glen's be?"

"He's right over in Laguna, down da road 'bout 2 or 3 miles."

"Thank you," he replied with a small smile.

"Did they do somethin' bad?" the woman asked just as Sylar was about to turn to leave.

"Not exactly. They're from New York, and one of them took their parents' car, who reported it stolen."

"Oh, alright," the woman replied. "Best o' luck."

Sylar smiled at the woman in reply. As he walked back to the car, he shook his head a little. _Like sheep,_ he thought.

He drove into the small town, looking for any sign of the escapees when he spotted the sign for Glen's repair shop. He pulled up to find the car they had stolen up on a flatbed truck. He walked into the shop. He heard the sound of footsteps as a man with grease smudges on his face came to the front desk. "Can I help ya'?" the man asked.

"You're Glen, I'm guessing."

"Sure am! What can I do ya' for?"

"Who's car is that on the flatbed?"

"Why? Ya' wanna buy it?'

"No, not really I-"

"I can part with it for $5,000."

"That's not necessary," Sylar replied as he took out the picture. "Are these the kids who sold you the car?"

"They stole da car," Glen stated bluntly as he quickly glanced at the photo.

"And how do you know that?"

"No keys. They prob'bly hotwired da car in da first place. Are ya' with da FBI?"

"Not exactly," Sylar replied. "Do you know where any of them might be?" He looked out of the window to see that it was starting to get dark and his chances of catching them were slimming.

"They said they was stayin' at da motel down da road," Glen said, his thumb pointing the direction.

"Thank you," Sylar said as he slipped the photo back into his suit pocket.

"If ya still want da car, jus' lemme know. I'll have it 'til tomorrow. Jus' $6,000."

Sylar shook his head as he went back to his car. He climbed in and let the car roll slowly down the road towards the motel. He found a spot in the darkness to spy on the rooms at a safe distance. He slipped the photo back into the file and the file back under the passenger's seat. All of a sudden he heard a loud slam along with screaming. A girl burst out of one of the rooms, throwing something that looked like a key back into the room before she slammed the door shut. She looked around for a moment before she roared at a cream colored car which proceeded to flip over vertically and landed yards away. The girl shook herself off and started marching up the road.

Sylar slowly turned the car on, allowing the car to creep after the girl. He allowed a full smile to take over his face. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he said to himself as he turned down the warbling voice of Amy Winehouse's "You Know I'm No Good."


End file.
